


through the spaces of the dark

by friendlybomber



Series: Teagan and Ethelan [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: "brave" is a double entendre, Ethelan Mahariel Sabrae, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Smut, high-octane flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 13:40:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10537635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendlybomber/pseuds/friendlybomber
Summary: Three years after the events of Origins, the Warden and Teagan stop fucking around and start fucking around.





	

**Author's Note:**

> "through the spaces of the dark" serves as a prequel to my ongoing fic "No Loose Ends", however, it works just as well as a standalone fic. You do not have to read that one to understand this one. you also do not have to read any other story in ethelan's series, but i would really appreciate it if you checked them out

_“…And through the spaces of the dark_

_Midnight shakes the memory_

_As a madman shakes a dead geranium.”_

_-Rhapsody on a Windy Night,_ T.S. Eliot

 

Memories of the Grey clouded her mind all day. It had been three years now since it all. Her eyelids were fogged up windows behind which lurked the faces of countless snarling darkspawn. Her ears sang like lyrium, echoing with the screams of those she had failed to save. Her body was tight, lithe, skin scarred in more places than she would care to admit. Her face was as grey as her tunic. Her eyes were as haunted as the Blackmarsh. Commander of the Grey was a fitting title. It suggested the horrors that she had faced every day since she had looked into a mirror and faced oblivion.

But none of the nobles saw that here. They saw that she was young, but her shoulders were as square as any aged lord. They saw that she was pretty, for all elves were pretty. They saw that she smiled and laughed and maintained the expected façade of interest. They could see the shadow that sat over only her, but they cared little to entertain thoughts on it. None were willing to pull back the curtains and see the woman behind the girl.

Some knew. Old friends, old lovers, old brothers-in-arms. But he was not here. He was travelling to the eastern coast. Couldn’t be bothered to show up to his own court. But he couldn’t be bothered to show up to the wedding he had promised her once, either. So, she sipped his wine and stared at the wall and wondered for the umpteenth time that day where she had gone wrong.

A warm laugh shook her from the frost that had settled over her. She looked around the hall to find its source. Alistair wasn’t her only old friend. No, she had forged many friendships over the years, and some ran even as long as his. Some of her friends were even from the same family as him. Sort of. The blood of the covenant, and all that.

Of course, Teagan was present in Alistair’s court. He was rarely where he needed to be, in his shiny new arling. He wasn’t usually in court, though. She wondered if shirking responsibilities was a family thing. These days, Warden-Commander Mahariel – that’s who she was now, and that was only the short version of her name – seemed to hear more from Teagan than from Alistair. The king was busy searching for a wife, no doubt, or else another tavern to hide from his duties in. But Teagan- Teagan was at least kind enough to return her letters, when she remembered to send them.

Teagan was more than kind, she recalled. He was brave, charming, just, honorable… The very definition of noble. Also handsome. Very, very handsome.

He looked up as her eyes finally picked him out amongst the nobles. Their eyes met, and he smiled. He reminded her so much of Alistair sometimes, but never more so than when he smiled. Their faces moved the same way, like shaking off silt from a river bath. They both narrowed their eyes when they smiled, and they both could wield a worrying mischievous expression that screamed _Trouble_. She had seen it on both men, and had been thoroughly amused by the events that subsequently followed.

He was charming some noblewoman, by the looks of it. Ethelan – that was who she really was, underneath all the titles and formality – felt herself grin. Still not married, she noted. Perhaps something had gone wrong along the way. Surely, a man such as Teagan was the object of many women’s desires.

But they must be women, of course. And nobility. And human. Her bare finger, blank like the space behind a long-seated painting, was so fond of reminding her.

She was not human, but she was, horrifyingly enough, nobility. And she was also a woman, young though she be, and, as she had known when she met Teagan years ago in the Redcliffe chantry, she too was victim to the caprices of desire.

She had made her way over to Teagan long before her mind caught up. That sort of thing seemed to happen a lot in the days following the Darkspawn Civil War. (She found that name was a bit too romantic for her tastes, but then again, it was she who had first called it that. She was drunk, and she had said it sarcastically, and it had stuck. It was Nathaniel’s fault. _He_ wrote the official report.) It had been a very, _very_ long year.

The conversation between the two nobles was lost on her ears. Something about taxes? She was hardly interested. She didn’t even pay attention when nobles brought matters to her attention in Amaranthine. Court was a strange place. Even with all the people and all the talking, no one saw the memories of the Grey in her. She could really use a friend.

Teagan interrupted his conversation to finally acknowledge Ethelan.

“…but, allow me to introduce you to a friend of mine,” he said. He introduced the two women to each other. Ethelan immediately forgot the noblewoman’s name. She was usually so good with names... Her mind was just so clouded these days.

And then she blinked, and she and Teagan were alone, standing in the glow of the pyre, and her mind cleared up just enough to realize she ought to pay attention.

“I understand why Alistair chooses to avoid court,” she said. “I would rather take my chances with the darkspawn than have to listen to another human complain about infrastructure. It’s like Amaranthine, but even more people expect me to be on top of things here.”

“I know what you mean,” he said. “It’s as if I didn’t have enough troubles back in Redcliffe.”

“All good with the new position, Arl Teagan?” she said.

“So far, nothing too dramatic has come up,” he said. “A little trouble with bandits, but hopefully nothing we can’t handle. It’s a lot of work, inheriting a holding, but I’m up for the challenge. I trust all is well in Amaranthine?”

“All is well.” She sighed with disgust. “Busy. I don’t think I’ve been out of my armor in ten years.”

Mischief played across Teagan’s features. It was that look, that one he shared with Alistair. Trouble. “Not once? Not even to change into this ravishing dress you’ve got on?”

She laughed entertained him with a vain little spin. “Isn’t it awful? Dresses are so _impractical._ I can’t fight in a dress like.”

“You could,” he said. “It’d just be rather difficult.”

“Anyway, _you_ are a sycophant,” she said, jabbing her finger at his chest. “Flatterer.”

“I can’t help but to notice the most beautiful woman in the room,” he replied. “It is not often we receive such… brave guests in Denerim.”

She grinned. “Brave, huh? Now I _know_ you’re being a scoundrel. Tell me, how does such a _bold and charming_ man like you remain unmarried for so long?”

He chuckled and let his eyes move quickly over her body, just subtle enough for implication, but not bold enough to be lewd. “Perhaps I am simply not brave enough.”

“I find you plenty brave, Arl Teagan,” she teased. “We are here, after all.”

He tilted his head in, and she leaned toward him conspiratorially. She watched as his eyelashes fluttered on his cheeks. “Were we but a little braver, perhaps we would not be _here_ ,” he replied, his voice lowered.

The caprices of desire, she reminded herself, as a blush spread across her cheeks. “What other rooms could we _possibly_ be in? I was referring to the Blight several years ago, and all that nonsense that happened in Redcliffe, Arl Teagan. I simply wanted to compliment your valor. How dreadfully indecent of you.”

He thrummed, the sound buzzing in his throat. “My apologies, Commander. You must know by now to stop me while I’m ahead.”

“And if I don’t wish to stop you?”

He smiled at her strangely, as if he had suddenly realized something. She found her eyes tracing along the hem of his tunic, how it brushed against the base of his neck and rustled with the rise and fall of his chest. They were standing awfully close together. He swallowed, and she followed the movement of his Adam’s apple.

“Then perhaps we may both be brave after all.” He drew back, and she fell in slightly toward him, led by her lips. He chuckled, and he was not so much like Alistair – older, bolder. A different man, but similar enough that it would be what she wanted. She knew she was being shallow and unfair. She didn’t care. She had been flirting with Teagan for a long time now, and her hands burned to reach out and touch. If he was to be a replacement for Alistair, so be it.

But, for as much as she wanted to finally get to it and make something of their idle flirtation, what small shred of logic she still possessed held her back. They were surrounded by a sea of gossiping nobles. Someone would certainly notice if the Warden-Commander decided to grab the arl of Redcliffe by the collar and try to swallow his tongue. There were certain things she wasn’t about to do in Alistair’s court.

Yet, funnily enough, had Alistair not left her, she would not be there, desiring nothing more than to drink the air from Teagan’s lips. But he _had_ left her, that bastard. So, she would do what she did best; temper bravery with resourcefulness.

“The nobles will talk,” she sing-songed. He caught her hands in his own and held them up to his chest. Course, large, strong. Not Alistair’s hands, and not better, but so, so intoxicating nonetheless. Warmth seeped into her skin. She was fascinated by the curve of his lips. 

“Then perhaps we ought to continue this when they are more drunk, and will not notice,” he replied. “Or create a façade to hide behind.” He let her hands drop. “Or perhaps I should not flirt with you so… ardently.”

“I don’t care what the nobles think,” she insisted. “I mean, I don’t think we should… whatever, here, but I don’t care if they see us leave together like. I never learned the art of court, it seems. And I do not mind your flirting. That is, as long as you don’t mind my own.”

His eyes narrowed. Just like Alistair’s, she noted. Maker, his _uncle_. That was practically… something. Incest? Not really. But it certainly was skeevy. “Of course not, Commander. How could I be bothered by the charms of such a beautiful woman?”

Her doubts got the better of her. “Perhaps you _should_ mind,” she mumbled, eyes frosting over. “I am much younger than you, and Alistair…”

“It is my understanding that you and Alistair have not been… involved, in several years? I do not wish to overstep my boundaries,” he added quickly. “If my relationship to Alistair troubles you, I will, of course, relent. As for your age… You are not a child. You are a young woman. Can you fault me for seeing you as such?”

She gazed at him, thinking. He was right. Three years ago, she had been a newly engaged twenty-year-old. But that was _three years ago_. Here, an opportunity was presenting itself to finally go further with someone she had idly wanted for years, and she was hesitating. She did not _hesitate_. She was the Hero of Ferelden, damnit, and she wanted to kiss Arl Teagan.

Standing there in the light of the pyre, her blue eyes met his. No. She wanted to do a whole lot more than kiss Arl Teagan. Maker, he was handsome. Nothing was holding her back. She could do this if she wanted to.      

He would not be her first since Alistair, but, if she played her cards right, he may be the best.

“You always charm me,” she finally answered. “I think one of these days you’ll just sweep me away. Has this been your intention for the past three years, to drive me slowly mad? If so, it’s worked. I don’t mean to sound improper, or whatever, but quite frankly, I really, really want to do bad things to you. Oh Maker, I actually said that, didn’t I? That was… gauche.”

He took a step closer to her, and she could feel the heat of his body. He gripped her elbows tight and leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“Very. And no, it hasn’t been my intention to drive you mad. I thought perhaps it might’ve been yours, though.”

“To drive you mad, or to drive me mad?”

He laughed at the absurdity. “So we agree we drive each other mad?”

“Yes, good, end that before it starts,” Ethelan breathed. She swallowed heavily. His lips were but a centimeter from her ear. “I think we should get out of here. Tell me, would you be _brave_ enough to do that?”

“To finally do more than flirt where we shouldn’t be?” He chuckled, breathy and hot in her ear, and she flexed her knuckles. “Perhaps. Would you allow me to?”

“If you’re lucky,” she said, “I’ll let you do much more than that.”

He thought better of leaning in for a kiss, it seemed, for he drew back again instead. She suppressed a groan and the urge to drag him back by the hips.

“Am I lucky?” he wondered out loud. He inclined his head toward a door off the side of the hall. “Follow me and find out?”

“Scandalous,” she said. “What will the nobles think?”

The corners of his lips upturned into a smirk. “Indecent thoughts, I’m sure. We could give them a run for their money.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Lead the way.”

He slipped off through the hall, and she trailed behind him, trying not to stumble over her stupid impractical dress. He opened the heavy wooden door and disappeared behind it, and she followed him into the corridor.

He placed a hand on the door and closed it firmly. It had not fully locked into place before he swept her up into him, one hand finding the back of her thigh, the other her shoulder, and kissed her with more ardor than she had expected.

All this time she had been thinking him like Alistair, and she had been so very wrong. He kissed _hungrily_. He wrangled her away from the door, backing her up until she bumped against a small table. She placed her hand on its surface to steady herself as he half bent her against it, still sipping at her lips.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he growled between intent little kisses. His hands gripped her waist, and he pressed a knee into her inner thigh just above the knee.

Kissing anyone had this way of making her head spin, but kissing Teagan was an entirely different animal. Her mind was blank, completely overrun with something coursing and hot. Her lips buzzed from the constant pressure, so she parted his lips with her tongue, poking at the rim just beyond his teeth. He responded in turn, touching his tongue to hers and groaning as she accepted him back into her mouth.

He seemed to be trying to steal the breath from her very lungs. His hands ran up along her sides, stopping again beneath her arms, his thumbs resting at the edges of her breasts.

They needed to breathe eventually. His mouth broke away from hers. Their eyes met at the sudden lull. She grinned. He began to laugh, resting his forehead against hers.

“Maker,” he cursed. “How did we get here?”

“I’m so happy right now,” she said. “Also, you are a _really_ good kisser.”

“Practice,” he said.

“I’d like a lesson, please,” she said.

“It’s probably best if I show you, rather than tell you,” he said, and he leaned in to kiss her again. She gripped his shoulders as their tongues met again, sighing contentedly into his mouth.  

He pulled away and brushed the hair from around her ear. In one smooth motion, he licked a wet, deliberate line up bottom to top. She shivered and could not suppress a moan. Satisfied with his work, he kissed her again. His knee found its way beyond her lower thigh and pressed between her legs. She gasped into his mouth, allowing him to suck her bottom lip. Her eyes rolled back to look at the ceiling, and she prayed to the Maker for strength.

She whined his name. He released her lip and tilted his head to look up at her. His hand came to rest on her cheek.

“Shall we move this to my bedroom?” he asked. Their foreheads pressed together again. His thumb slid to probe the entrance between her lips. She was not sure how much more she could handle. She simply nodded. He drew back off of her, and she let out a heavy breath.

He held out a hand to help her up off the table. She allowed him to lead her down the corridor and up a stairwell, through a maze she would never remember, and finally through a last carved wooden door. He closed it firmly behind him and turned to face her on his heel.

“I can’t decide if I want you to take off your dress, or if I want to do it,” he said.

“Scared to fight with this stupid bodice?” she teased.

“Truthfully, yes,” he said. “That looks… almost as complicated as what I’m wearing.”

“Finery is the Maker’s second scourge,” Ethelan said. “You can take off my smallclothes. Give me a few minutes to figure out how to get out of a dress.”

In truth, they ended up taking off more of each other’s clothes than by themselves. Through all the kissing and touching, they eventually found their way to the bed. She sat on the edge and did not tear her eyes away from him as he sunk to one knee before her. She wrapped her arms around his neck. He tilted her chin in response and kissed the sensitive area just under her jaw. She closed her eyes and smiled blissfully.

He tore his lips from her and leaned forward, parting her legs with his hands. His movements were no longer delicate, but earnest again; however, he still moved with the same slow and deliberate pace as he inched his mouth toward the area between her legs. Just as she could feel his beard prickling just beyond touch, she giggled. She crossed her arms over his head and let herself laugh.

He drew back. “Is this…?”

She bit her tongue. “No, please, sorry. I was just thinking about Alistair’s face if he ever finds out about this.” She cleared her throat. “Sorry. Ruined the mood like. I’ll try not to talk about your nephew while you go down on me.”

Teagan, to his credit, simply laughed and rose to the challenge. “I will simply have to drive thoughts of him from your mind. After all,” he said, placing a kiss to the inside of her thigh. “I only-” He kissed the crease of her leg. “Want you-” The area above her clit. “Thinking-” Down to the other leg. “About-” Her right thigh. “Me.” His mouth finally found her clit.

She sighed, and he stopped wasting time.

She was eternally grateful he was not one of those men who couldn’t grasp the “gentler is better” notion of pleasuring a woman. In fact, he was perfectly capable. The trick was repetition; he knew this, and did it quite well.

Her ears roared with her thrumming pulse. The thing about sex was, it felt so _good_. Her mind was blank, and when she closed her eyes, all she saw was white hot bursts. More importantly, she wasn’t focused on anything but his mouth on her and how damn good it felt, how her nerves were sighing with relief that she finally, finally had him right where she wanted him. She bunched up around him, her body tensing as the stupid, mindless goodness of it all began to cap.

And when it did, she had never felt so sweet before in her life.

When her legs finally stopped quivering and she felt she could breathe again, he drew his head back and gazed at her through heavily lidded eyes. She pulled him up to her level, languid euphoria coloring her heavy panting breaths.

“Come here,” she gasped. She kissed him hard and soft at the same time. She had not had enough of him, not by a long shot. She had desired to let Teagan despoil her – interesting choice of words, but the sentiment was there – for three years, and, damnit, she was not yet satisfied.

He was far from finished, as well.  “Is it too late to ask that I have more of you?" he asked, resting his head on her chest.

“Of course not,” she replied. His tongue traced along one of her nipples in lazy circles. “Might as well make use of this bed. Fuck me.”

“Maker, Ethelan,” he groaned into her skin. She felt the hair on her arms rise as he uttered her first name. “That _was_ gauche. I’ve never called you by that name before. I don’t know if I’m supposed to. You introduced yourself as Mahariel. I don’t know-” He stopped himself. “I’m babbling. Maker, you’ve got me babbling. Forgive me. I’ve… never wanted a woman like I want you. I’m not sure what to do about that.”

“You can call me Ethelan,” she said. “My friends call me Ethelan. We’re friends, right?”

He looked at her incredulously. “More than friends, I hope. Unless you do this with all your friends?”

“Sometimes,” she shrugged. “Now, _please_ fuck me?”

“Right,” he said. “As you say, my lady.”

They pulled themselves fully onto the bed, his body pressing down into hers. He leaned in to steal a deep kiss from her lips, cradling her head in his hands.

He pulled away and let his lips trail to the corner of her mouth, then down her jawline to her ear. He nibbled at her earlobe gently, then tugged once with his teeth. She grinned. He licked a stripe up her neck that made her lips part. She buried her hands in his hair.

“You’re driving me nuts,” she muttered through gritted teeth.

“I’m savoring the moment,” he said. “But, since you’re so eager-”

He entered her, and they both groaned.

He took his time sliding into her. She lay very still as he pressed his hips forward, his eyes closed. The beginning was never the most exciting, but it always sent shivers up her arms. There was something tentative about the whole thing, and it teased on the edge of her mind as he slowly pushed his hips in and out.  

“I’m not as delicate as I look,” she complained. “Don’t hold back for fear of breaking me.”

“I’m afraid,” he said, “that this will be over too quickly should I do anything but hold back. I want to savor every moment with you.”

She smiled and pecked his lips. “We can always have another go tonight after we finish. I don’t leave Denerim until the morning like. You have me until then.”

“Let’s just get through this time,” he said. “I’ve wanted this for so long that I’m not eager to get ahead of myself.”

“Teagan, not for nothing,” she said, “but I want you to fuck me so bad. It feels so fucking good, and I am so ready, but you just gotta do it.”

“Fine,” he said, and he stopped holding back.

There was always the trouble of finding the right pace and matching it, but they muddled through that rather quickly. From there on out, it was smooth sailing. Fucking was sweaty and sinfully fun, and there was something about feeling so satisfyingly full that really worked for Ethelan. She tilted her head back against the pillow and let her jaw hang slack in a lazy smile. Teagan, who was making an artwork of bruises along her collarbones with his tongue, tilted her chin and caught her in a touchy, desperate kiss.

It felt so damn good, and she wanted to cry out, but his tongue was mingling with hers again, and she was becoming lightheaded from lack of air, and she thought, if this was how she was to die, that would be okay.

Still, she wanted him closer, closer. She wanted him more than this skin-deep dance. She wanted more, more, more. And she realized then, she didn’t just want him because he could replace Alistair. She wanted him because he was Teagan, and she had fallen for him when she hadn’t been looking.

Shit.

He pressed his mouth against her neck just below her jaw. She arched her back beneath him as his teeth closed and he began to suck at her skin. When he drew back, a pretty red bruise flowered across her skin, and he replaced his mouth slightly lower down, letting his tongue speak for him. She could not hold back a moan as their sweat-slicked bodies rattled the bed.

He was well beyond words, but he began to mutter furiously into her skin, distracting himself to make it last just a little bit longer. She pushed her hips up into his, trying to take more of him. He cursed, and she knew he was close.

She felt his cock begin to throb inside of her. She was so close, too, closer than she had ever been from being fucked before, and she wanted to finish. She began to reach, desperately drawing as much pleasure from his fuck as she could so that they could both come at the same time. It boiled in her veins, and he was so close, his voice growing breathier beneath her ear, and, Maker, she had never fucked like this before. And, just as she wondered if she could push herself over the peak, he came with a groan, spilling out into her, his body going lax on top of her.

His lips moved wordlessly, still on her neck, muttering the ghost of a prayer to her skin. When sense returned to him, he pulled out of her, letting the mess spill out onto his bed. She took the opportunity to reach down and finish herself off with her fingers. She came as he kissed her, and it was better than the first time. They lay like that for a few minutes, chests rising and falling heavily. She nuzzled into his hair and released a breath through her nose.

Eventually, he placed an almost laughably chaste kiss to her neck and roused himself. He repositioned his head so that he looked down on her face, a sleepy, satisfied smile playing across his lips, and Maker, he looked like Alistair. She should have regretted that thought, but instead, she laughed.

“What?” he asked rubbing his nose against hers. “Is something funny, my dear?”

“It’s nothing,” she said. “It’s just… an odd world, isn’t it?”

“You’re thinking about him again,” he said.

“I’m always thinking about him. But you two are so similar, it’s hard not to. You’re not him, though,” she added. “You’re you. And that’s wonderful.”

“Oh? Dare I ask how-”                                                 

She silenced him with a kiss, her tongue gliding along his. He made a noise of surprise, but did not move to break the kiss until she drew back first.

“Maybe pillow talk about your nephew isn’t the best thing right now,” she said. She heaved a sigh. “I can’t believe this is real. Nothing’s felt this real in so long.”

“It seems like a dream,” he agreed. “I hope we never wake up.”

They kissed again, tired and sloppy. And once they had finished, they started again, and again, a hundred lip-numbing kisses to tide them over. It couldn’t have been a dream. Ethelan never had dreams so perfect.

She did not mind the full weight of his body on top of hers; it kept her mind focused on the moment, the act of living and of kissing. He was warm, tangible, current. His chest pressed to her chest and his hips pressed to her hips and his thighs pressed to her thighs and his shins pressed to her shins, and maybe he was not her memories of Alistair, but he was so damn delicious that he may have been better. She wished he would lay on top of her and kiss her back from the brink of oblivion forever.

Eventually, they retreated under the thick blankets, each laying on their side and gripping the other tightly. They were warm, safe. His legs wrapped around hers, and she did not remember grey nights spent in rain-soaked tents or snarling tainted faces or the stench of death or the pull of a bowstring.

“Ethelan,” he said between tiny, perfunctory kisses, “you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

“Too bold,” she teased. “I’m calling this whole thing off now.” She kissed him to show she was joking.

“Tell me to go and I’ll go,” he said.

“This is your room,” she said. She traced her hands along the curve of his hip. “Don’t go. I still want you.”

Some uncountable number of seconds, indeed, probably somewhere closer to hours later, they fell back into another sleepy rut. They were too drained to make anything but the slowest, heaviest, most lackadaisical love. He sucked a few more bruises into her neck in the process, and she responded by nibbling his ear raw.

When he had come again, he pulled out of her and slipped his hand down to palm at the wetness between her legs. He rubbed two fingers around her clit until she came with a sigh into his hand. They punctuated it all with another open-mouthed kiss, and fell asleep still wrapped in each other’s arms, slack mouths hardly inches apart.

She awoke several hours later, well into the night, with the memory of what had happened still fresh in her mind. Her body was trapped in the prison of his arms, and she was acutely aware of the fact that they were both grimy, sweaty messes. More importantly, she had to pee. She tried to pry herself from his arms without disturbing him. He breathed deeply in his sleep and stirred.

“Ethelan?” His voice was creaky from sleep.

“Mm?”

He tightened his embrace around her. “You’re still here.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” he mumbled. “I want you here.” He seemed to fall back into sleep, and she moved to creep out of bed. Then, he nodded, and said, “What of the morning?”

“What of it?”

“Where do you wish to go from here?”

She groaned. “I hadn’t thought about it. Give me a minute. Also, let me out.”

She relieved herself and returned to the bed, crawling back into the space between his arms and his chest. She nuzzled his nose with hers to wake him. He blinked sleepily at her, and he did not look like Alistair at all. To her credit, she was hardly even aware she was still comparing them.

“How long were you gone?” he asked. There was a certain innocence to his voice when he was halfway between reality and the Fade. She stroked a finger along his cheek.

“Not long. Do we have to go anywhere?”

“Not right now,” he said. “Right now, we sleep.”

“That’s not what I meant. I meant, you know, after tonight. You asked before. Do we _have_ to go anywhere from here like?”

“I know what you meant. We don’t have to think about that right now. Shouldn’t have asked you. It’s late. Sleep.”

“Teagan-” she started. He shushed her with his finger and opened his eyes again.

“I’m not Alistair. I know this. I won’t make you any promises if you don’t want them,” he said. He closed his eyes. “But I will be content with what I have right now. Sleep, Ethelan. Desire can be the end of it, if you so choose.”

“Is that what _you_ want?”

“I am not my nephew, and I know that’s who you want,” Teagan sighed. He rolled onto his back. “I won’t delude myself into thinking that sleeping with you grants me exclusive rights to your heart. I do care for you a great deal, but If this is as far as we go, I’ll accept it.”

“What if it’s love?” she breathed.

“You’re still hurt, my dear. You cannot give me your love, not fully, if you even have any to give me. I fear Alistair still holds your heart in his grasp, whether he knows it or not.” He frowned. “And besides, you are a Grey Warden. It would be foolish to think on a life we might share, knowing you may die at any time.” He closed his eyes tighter. “No. I care for you very much, Ethelan. But I know not to play with fire.”

“Are you dumping me before we’ve even began?” she teased. Her throat felt wet and sore. Her toes were cold. She shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up. It was foolish. She would have to move on from here in the morning, anyway.

Teagan hummed a laugh. “I know you do not wish to begin. Don’t worry. We have tonight, and tonight won’t leave this bed. Your secret affair with the king’s uncle is safe with me.”

Ethelan allowed his words to placate her. She even huffed a little laugh for his sake. It was a cold night in the castle. She rested her head on his shoulder and breathed out a sigh. “Maker, I wonder what the nobles will think about our disappearance act.”

Teagan opened his eyes, then apparently decided not to waste the energy. “I’ll… deal with them later. It may not be wise, what we did, but I have no regrets. They’ll talk, but it won’t be a large scandal. Nothing we can’t take care of. I don’t think their opinion of me greater than yours.”

That wasn’t what Alistair would have said. For the first time in three years, Ethelan felt something akin to hope. There was no convincing a sleeping Teagan that she wanted him, but in the daylight, with warm toes and good memories and tired smiles, she might be able to tell him the truth. “Thank you,” she said as sincerely as she could.

“You’re welcome. For what?”

“ _He_ cared what they thought. Thank you for not.”

“I wouldn’t say I don’t care,” he chuckled, “but I understand what you mean. He was young. He made a decision guided by duty. He is paying the price. He is… not as brave as you.”

“Thank the Maker,” she said, and she let herself fall back asleep.

The morning came later than they would have expected. They untangled themselves from each other and sat on opposite ends of the bed, yawning in the still-darkened room. Ethelan retrieved her dress from the floor and held it against her body, frowning at it sleepily.

“I hate this dress,” she said. “I want to burn it.”

Teagan leaned over to gently pull it out of her hands. “It is a pretty dress,” he said. “And you are a pretty woman. Perhaps you should leave it on the floor for a while more.”

Ethelan grinned. “Once more before we never speak of this again?”

Teagan shook his head, a knowing smile dancing across his face. Trouble, she thought. That man was Trouble. “Oh, I don’t know about that. Shall I sweettalk you into bed one last time, then?”

But when had she _ever_ avoided trouble before in her life?

“Try your hardest.”

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her back down into the sheets. “I’ll give it a go. After all, the rewards of capturing the affections of a woman such as yourself would be… well, intrinsic, of course. Great. Extensive. _Delicious_. That much must be obvious.”

“And what about me makes my affections so desirable, Ser Arl?”

“Well,” he said, “You’re brave.”

He kissed her, his hands holding her face gently. A new day, and he was still exactly what she wanted. That had to mean something. Time would tell, she supposed. She’d see him again eventually, and then they’d know where they stood. She broke the kiss and pressed her forehead against his.

“Flatterer,” she said, and kissed him again.

Memories of the Grey clouded her mind all day. But Teagan had his mind set on making her forget, just this once.


End file.
